


A Thousand Apologies

by NimWallace



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst, Character Development, Ficlet, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot, POV John Watson, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 16:23:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15976025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NimWallace/pseuds/NimWallace
Summary: In which Doctor Watson recounts a bittersweet moment.





	A Thousand Apologies

It was a warm, April evening, and I could smell cedar wood and tobacco when I stepped through the door.   
Ah, how lovely to see that old rickety staircase again, and hear Mrs Hudson in the kitchen below. I was positive she did not hear me, or she would've rushed to the door to take my coat and greet me with a kiss on my cheek, something which she had started doing more comfortably during the later years of my lodging here.   
There was our old door to our rooms, all made of mahogany with the lion head knocker. Just the sound of the creak in the left floorboard to the right as I stepped forward was enough to fill me with nostalgia. It had been three long years since I'd been inside 221b, (not counting the one night which I spent there after our adventure with Colonel Moran) after my dearest friend's death, it was too much to bear being inside again.   
But now he had returned.   
And I knew that I would find him studying some chemical substance, or playing his violin, or enraptured by a client.  
I prayed his needle was not about.   
I knocked softly, something which I had not done here in a very long time, and Holmes's voice barked, “Come in!”   
I opened the door to find him stretched out across the sofa, gently plucking the strings of his violin. When he saw me, he leaped up, eyes twinkling.   
“Oh, it's you, Watson. Come now, you need not knock here.” He smiled, and for a moment I could almost pretend that Reichenbach never happened, and he had never been gone.   
But then I saw just how thin he had become, and the sallowness in his cheeks, and remembered the horrible events that day which I would never truly recover from.   
Seeing the look of soberness on my face, Holmes grabbed my suitcase and medical bag, each filled with the only possessions which I cared to keep.   
“Come now, doctor, don't be somber. This is a day to celebrate! We are a team once again, back at Baker Street to solve the most enthralling cases England has to offer!” He clapped me on the shoulder, and I attempted a smile.   
I was happy, but also heavyhearted in a way I cannot quite explain. Knowing this was all here, exactly as it always had been, and Holmes was alive and eager to share adventures once more—  
How many nights had I lay awake, wishing for this?   
“My dear Watson,” Holmes said gently, putting down my luggage. “Whatever is the matter? I thought you would be overjoyed to be returning.”   
“I am!” I said quickly. “It is just. . .I cannot explain it. Something has changed these three years. It seems wrong to ignore it.”   
Holmes's expression softened, and he looked down for a moment. Then he lifted his head and met my eyes with a somber smile.   
“Yes, I suppose I could not expect everything to go back just as it was,” he said softly. Suddenly the room didn't seem to have the same warmth it had before. The glow disappeared with the light in Holmes's eyes. “Watson, I had no intention of causing you grief, and in truth, I did not believe you would reveal I was alive, had you known I was.”   
He turned away, lighting a pipe and looking over the street, grey eyes tired. I watched as he took a long puff of smoke, then closed the curtains.   
“I feared, in truth,” he said, “that, if I contacted you, _I_ would put your life in danger. A risk I was unwilling to take.”   
I looked up in surprise, but his expression was hidden by the shadow over his face.   
“ _My_ life?” I said quietly. “You feared putting _my_ life in danger?”   
Holmes looked down, and I half expected him to turn around and laugh at the great joke he had just played on me, but he did not. Instead, looking wearisome, he looked at me and met my eyes almost pleadingly.   
“You assumed, then,” I said, anger broiling up inside me, “that you were not putting my life in danger by faking your death? Did you not think that would take a toll on me?”   
He winced, as though the words had slapped him.   
“I did not know you would be so affected,” he said softly.   
“How could I not be affected?” I was shouting now, and had no doubt Mrs. Hudson could hear me downstairs. I had never, never yelled like this at Holmes before. “How dare you assume your life does not matter to me! Has my service meant nothing to you? Have you not noticed I would willingly do anything you say? I would have rather perished over that waterfall than spend these three years thinking you had, and you have _wasted_ that.”

Holmes had been standing silently, in quiet resignation. Now, he looked at me as though preparing to carry a burden which he would never relieve, and I couldn't help but soften slightly. Even in my most heated moments, I could not long stay angry at this man. It was unfair, the power he had over me.   
“I truly am sorry,” he said quietly. “I have never taken your services, nor your company, for granted. I consider you above all people to be my greatest friend and companion. I realize now I have not shown it.”   
I breathed deeply.   
“Three years, Sherlock.”   
“I know, John. A thousand apologies would not be enough. How can I make it up to you?”   
Hearing my Christian name softened me yet more, and I couldn't help feeling that moment between us was one of the utmost private and intimate we have shared. A rare phenomenon where nothing was left repressed or unsaid.   
“You can let me share in every danger you put yourself through from now on,” I said with a small smile. “Every adventure. So that I may ensure you are never again in such peril.”   
Sherlock Holmes smiled back at me, his eyes flitting up.   
“Of course, my dear Watson. Of course.”

 


End file.
